


Abyss

by PaP



Category: Sonic the Hedgehog (Video Games), Sonic the Hedgehog - All Media Types
Genre: Multiple Pairings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2018-10-17 16:04:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10597458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaP/pseuds/PaP
Summary: Blaze and Silver investigate a series of murders whilst their lives threaten to unravel.





	1. Chapter 1

"Detective?"

There is no reply.

"I was just wondering. Have… Have you ever, uh, hated yourself? Just a little?"

Still, there is no reply.

"Detective?" Silver turns blearily on his barstool to locate his companion, his sullen, beleaguered frown clumsily morphing into a compassionate smile.

Blaze breathes so deeply, he knows she is asleep, with her face hidden in the nest of her folded arms. The remains of her beer glimmer in the brown bottle, pretty under the lights. Her tail is curled around her lower body, around the legs of the barstool, as if she and the barstool are one organic being.

"A peculiar mermaid," he whispers, daring to reach over and brush some lint off of her shoulder.

She doesn't stir.

* * *

He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby become a monster.  
\- Friedrich Nietzsche

* * *

**Abyss**

Blaze carefully leans over the edge of the bathtub, coming face-to-face with the corpse.

"Looks familiar, huh? The handiwork."

"Unfortunately."

"I mean…" Silver pulls at his tie, dislodging it, leaving it askew. "If it is the same killer and not a copycat."

"Mm."

He feels stuffy in his normally comfortable suit. Prickly. Which is a peculiarly uncomfortable sensation, for a hedgehog. "I don't think I understand why anybody would want to copy a killer…"

"You'll probably continue to be surprised by the complex motives of people."

"Assuming it is the same guy, then…"

"Then this will be the fifth victim we've found in about two weeks." Her tail swishes in agitated thought. "Still no obvious connection between the victims, other than their apparent solitude. Unmarried. Living alone."

"Loners being targeted by somebody with a grudge, maybe." He takes in a short breath. "He looks about my age, Detective."

She slowly turns to look at Silver askance, her eye bright from above her shoulder, reassuring yet clinical. "I can take it from here, if you'd like to find someplace to sit down."

"No, Detective, I'm okay."

"You're looking pale, even for you."

He's feeling sick to his stomach. He wishes he could distract himself the pattern of the tiles on the walls, but when he isn't gazing into the depths of her eye, he's tracing an old scar – maybe a birthmark – on the brow of the corpse's youthful face instead.

* * *

Once outside, they reconsider the stern brick walls and dull grey windows of the high-rise building.

"What a small apartment."

"Mm."

Silver tugs on his tie, loosening it further. "Our victim doesn't look like he had deep pockets, sure…" The hedgehog swallows, then continues in a hoarser voice, "But it's still kind of sad to see how little space he had."

Blaze says a few quiet words to a uniformed officer.

"Isn't it absurd?"

She turns back to Silver, who stares at the window that he knows leads to the bathroom.

"I find it difficult to think about. Maybe it's just absurd to me, but…" His gaze suddenly drops, as if searching for something in the brickwork. "A tiny box. One of many tiny boxes – we often call them dingy apartments – stacked on top of and beside each other, divided into rooms within a bigger box. People, living in these tiny boxes. Barely any space to live."

"You mentioned your uncle's estate."

"Out in the countryside. Yes, I miss that place." Silver snaps out of his reverie, giving her a lopsided, forced grin. "Sorry, I shouldn't drift of when we're on a job."

"It's fine, so long as you continue to operate effectively."

"I'll try, Detective."

"I know you will." She gives him a brief, chaste, awkward pat on the shoulder.

He treasures it, his grin no longer forced.

* * *

The car is hot, so Blaze rolls down a window. "My apologies."

"Hmm?"

"This old girl has little in the way of comforts. The aircon is not working, today."

"Oh, no, please! It's a nice car. No problem!"

After a guttural spurt, the engine shakily purrs to life.

Silver remembers to clip in his seatbelt. "Thanks again for the lift."

"You're welcome."

"It's very nice of you."

"At least this still works." She reaches for the radio. "You don't mind?"

"Nope!"

She turns on the radio and is greeted by a weather forecast that predicts heavy rain over the weekend.

They gently accelerate.

* * *

"I feel that you have something on your mind," Blaze murmurs, turning down the volume of the radio, which was already low.

"You're right, Detective." Silver giggles to himself. "I mustn't forget how perceptive you are."

"You aren't particularly subtle."

"Ah. That, too."

"Would you like to talk about whatever it is that's bothering you?" She has an almost deep, slightly melodious voice, entirely soothing when she speaks kindly to him like this. He imagines she'd sound incredible all the time, if she weren't typically so deadpan and aloof.

"It's not… annoying, is it? My daydreaming?"

"It's not."

"That's good. I don't mean to annoy you, Detective."

"I know you don't. You're a nice kid."

"Kid," he repeats, followed by a sigh.

"What else is on your mind?"

"Oh, I was just thinking about the latest victim."

"Mm."

"Was he lonely, do you think?" Silver turns to look at her lovely yet handsome profile. "Aside from being a loner. Was he… lonely?"

"I'm not sure he was lonely. You could be surrounded by loved ones and still feel lonely. Living alone doesn't seem like a prerequisite for loneliness. Maybe he was happy."

"Yeah," says the hedgehog, partially unconvinced, bordering on evasive. "I guess you're right. Maybe he was."

"You're empathising again."

"Again?"

"I've noticed that you have a tendency to do that. But this time, you didn't just imagine the perspective of the victim. You saw yourself in the victim."

"Is it a bad thing?"

"I don't think so. But it does make me wonder about you."

"About me?"

"You're unmarried. You've told me you live alone. Are you lonely?"

He's blushing, he know he is.

"Was that too much, too soon, to ask?"

"N-no, Detective, I just… I'm not sure how to answer that."

"You don't have to." She nods respectfully. "But you should be careful."

His eyebrows slowly lower, framing his unusual eyes with confusion. "About empathising?"

"About empathising too much, if such a thing is even possible."

"I'll… I'll try to be careful, Detective."

* * *

"I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"I should be more professional. More like you, Detective."

"No," Blaze replies a little more firmly than she'd intended, sliding the car into an open parking space.

The engine cuts off, dead.

She sits further back in her seat, blinks, clears her throat.

"Detective?"

"It's refreshing, in a way, to work with you, Silver."

"Really…?"

"You can be abrasive. Your social skills are about as terrible as mine. But your heart is big. It's in the right place. You're obviously capable of great compassion."

He wants to laugh, or cry, or something in-between. "Thank you, Detective! That's amazing, coming from you."

"This job can leave you feeling increasingly jaded over time. Part of me hopes you stay this compassionate. The other part hopes you won't have a nervous breakdown."

His elation evaporates.

"Let's get to the office. We've much work to do."


	2. Chapter 2

"Can I get you more coffee?"

"No, thank you."

"You don't mind if I…?"

"Go ahead."

"Okie dokie. Thanks!"

"Mm." Pen gripped between her eyeteeth, Blaze shuffles through official documents and unofficial scribbled notes, grimly paying mind to the pile of folders still waiting for her near the edge of her heavy wooden desk.

Silver whistles merrily from the neighbouring kitchenette, but some strange, subdued remnant of sadness radiates off him.

She pauses at a photograph. Then takes in a deep, soothing breath through her nose.

His whistle momentarily loses its key. He's evidently distracted by trying to twist open the jar of coffee.

Spitting out the pen, she thinks deeply about the young man's smile. Gazing distantly into the photograph, she imagines his voice, then shakes her head. Pushes her chair back.

"C'mon," Silver mutters, abandoning his tune. "Open up, you…!"

She stands, the photograph kept close to her chest, and turns away from her desk, from the paperwork, to briskly cross the room in strong, masculine strides. She stops before the board mounted on the wall. Reaches for a pin, tied to the end of a strand of red string.

The hedgehog finally twists the cap off of the jar, feeling satisfied and reasserted within himself. He then sets down the cap and takes up a spoon in its place. "Maybe I've told you this before," he says, speaking loudly over the roar of the boiling kettle, "but you'd think they'd have a bigger office for us, considering the important work we do!"

"Hmm."

"And we're pretty understaffed, too. Meh, money is tight, I guess. But our little team is great!" He chuckles. "And…" He feels his blush creeping upon him, shyly smiling at the kettle. "This way, I get to work more closely with you. We all do, but…"

She doesn't reply, although she hears him, dimly.

He tries to calm his thrumming heart with a gentle pat on the chest.

Her eyes traverse the board, the faces in the photographs, the red strings connecting them to snippets of places, relevant news clippings and scribbled, torn notes. The newest photograph is getting slightly crumpled in the grip of her slender hand, the point of the pin between her fingertips unsteady, gleaming.

"Actually, scratch what I said earlier about us having a bigger office to share. It's great just sharing this space with you." He rubs the back of his head bashfully. "But if anybody deserves to have a bigger office in this place, I think that somebody should be you. You should totally have your own office, Detective. A big office with a nice view."

"And my own pretty masseuse at the ready to rub this tension from my shoulders," she replies under her breath, pressing the photograph flat against an open space. "Wouldn't that be nice?" Finally, she pins the string to the edge of the photograph of the young man's face, then steps back, feeling small and insignificant under the looming mosaic of faces, the growing web of red strings.

Silver returns shortly thereafter with a steamy mug in his hand. About to say something friendly and cheerful, he falters when he sees her standing before the evidence board, her slim, straight back toward him.

"All these people."

He swallows saliva and tentatively approaches her. "Detective?"

"Sometimes, I wonder why I do this job."

"O-oh, that's easy!" He nervously laughs. "So you can stop the bad guys, of course. You're a hero."

"It isn't that simple, at least, I don't think it is." She turns to face him. "Those 'bad guys' are people, too, with complicated motivations." Her expression is stern, but her eyes communicate much more tenderly. "Motives we might never know. It seems convenient to vilify them, to dismiss them, but is it so simple?"

He feels vulnerable under her gaze, insufficient.

"Maybe those 'bad guys' are just people, people who hurt other people. That's what makes this scenario so hard to understand." She realises her voice is rougher than usual. "But I hope those 'bad guys' can change for the better. I cling to this hope."

"It could be good, I mean, to have hope."

"Still, it's so hard, because it seems so senseless."

He sees her move, feels her brush past him, briskly making her way back to her desk.

She sits down, cradling her head in one hand, reaching for another file with the other.

"We will catch this killer, Detective," Silver murmurs to the board, before adding more strongly, "I believe."

"You believe?"

"I believe we will catch this killer. I believe justice, somehow, will prevail. And if we're not the ones to enact just a slice of justice, then somehow, justice will prevail in another way. That's what I believe, too."

* * *

Silver's yawn draws Blaze out of her stupor.

"Go home. Get some rest."

He immediately regrets having shown weakness. "But there's still paperwork…"

"I can manage." She's firm, yet gentle. "It's been a long day. A long number of days."

"You staying here, working on your own… That's hardly fair, though."

"I won't be in the office for much longer. I'll be fine. Don't worry."

"But–"

"Catch a taxi, go home and rest. That's an order."

He doesn't argue further, rising to pack his things away in his neat little satchel. He glances her way, taking a moment to play with his loose, twisted tie.

She is poised over her work, biting that old pen again. Still, she manages to talk through it elegantly, coherently, saying, "I assume you have cab money."

"I do. But…"

"But?"

"Are you sure? I'm happy to stick by you and keep working."

"I told you before that I had given you an order. I'm sure."

He smiles a secret, sad smile at her and, with reluctance, turns to leave. "Goodnight, Detective."

"Goodnight, Silver." She waits to hear the door open and close, then waits some more. When his footsteps have receded downstairs, she deflates, losing much of her posture in the process. She collapses over her desk, a hand slapping down on the remaining paperwork to prevent its escape, and she bows her head into the nest of her folded arm. She closes her eyes and breathes.

The little clock on her desk ticks noisily.

"All those people." The words come out muffled. Try as she might to be blind, she sees their faces projected against her eyelids. She sees the irony, now, in warning Silver.

* * *

"Hi."

Blaze slides onto the barstool, her tail curling about herself. She attempts a quiet, modest smile at the bartender. "Hey."

"The usual?"

"Yes, please. Thank you."

"No problem, hon."

Her eyes trace the motions of a strong, voluptuous body as Rouge reaches for a glass at the back. "Your perfume."

The bat is listening, but gives little indication of paying even the slightest attention.

"It's different tonight."

An amused sound. "You noticed."

"I'm a detective." The cat tilts her head slightly. "And all these years later, you're a friend. Of course I noticed."

"I'm trying something new."

"I like it, but I like your old scent better."

"Only because it's familiar to you and you're evidently a lady who likes routine."

"I can be adventurous."

Rouge laughs quietly, deeply, from the belly outward, whilst filling the tall glass with amber from the tap.

"What's so funny?"

"You are, dear."

Blaze accepts the full glass that's eventually pushed her way.

The bat reaches for her cloth and begins polishing another glass.

"How stereotypical."

"That, and I like it when stuff gleams." Her aquamarine eyes are alert under dark lashes. "How are you?"

"Managing." The cat sighs. "How do I look?"

"Tired. Worn. Still cute."

"And you look indestructible, unfazed, gorgeous."

"I try."

"But how are you?"

Hesitation. "Not at my best. You've probably noticed these last few visits that my bar seems quieter than usual. It keeps getting a little quieter each night."

"Business has been hurt. It's still hurting."

"Yeah."

"The prejudice of some people." Warm eyes are sympathetic. "Has anyone been harassing you?"

"No. I've always been controversial in this city, hon. Mostly, people just avoid me, now. Even more than before."

Blaze lowers her head. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"We've been trying to keep the investigation quiet."

"Amy Rose doesn't really 'do' quiet, though, does she?"

An aggravated sound. A growl, almost.

"Easy, kitten. She's young. Enthusiastic. I doubt she means any harm. She probably thinks she's a hero for keeping the public informed. She could be. To them, at least."

"Maybe. But she's sensational. Absurdly popular."

A womanly shrug, shoulders bare. "Seems she's just giving the people what they want. I can understand that. A story, something juicy and bitter to sink their anxious teeth into. I often sell something juicy and bitter to drown their sorrows in. It's just business."

"I guess so. So it's especially strange that she wasn't at the last crime scene."

"Oh?"

"At least, I didn't see her."

"Do you think she's avoiding you?"

"No. She's rather fearless. I'm no threat to her."

Rouge shrugs again. "Maybe her clairvoyance only works sometimes, then."

The cat groans.

The bat giggles. "What?"

"Do you really believe she's clairvoyant?"

"I dunno. She generally seems to appear at the right places and at the right times for her stories, though. It's uncanny. And she said as much in her article."

"I think she knows someone on the inside. Someone who is feeding her information. Maybe a common uniform. Maybe one of my guys."

"How intriguing."

"I've tried looking into it. Nobody's talking."

"Whoever it is, seems they're more loyal to Amy than they are to you, hon."

"Yes. The thought saddens me, somewhat."

"Then let's change the topic to something happier, hmm?"

"Right." The slightest of grins. "How are things with your platonic housemate?"

The mask momentarily disappears, replaced by a look of profound affection. "Shadow is Shadow. A lot like how you are you. He's been very supportive in his own funny way."

"He does seem to take care of you."

"I'm not sure what I'd do without him. Anyway." Rouge smirks. It used to be unsettling, but now the expression is vaguely comforting. "How's the newest addition to your unit? What's-his-name?"

"Silver." Blaze flexes her jaw. "He's doing fine."

"And?"

"He could be a great detective, given time."

"But right now, he's young. Inexperienced. And that bothers you."

"I hope he doesn't get crushed under the weight of our work."

* * *

"You haven't considered something… more?"

"More?"

"You've been tending this bar since the night I first met you."

"So?"

"Don't you want change? Something else?"

"Not really. Not right now, at least."

Blaze wants to say something, but refrains.

"Listen, darling."

She looks up.

Rouge leans over, resting heavily on her elbows, unmindful of her cleavage. "I'm fine, okay? The people are unhappy, sure, but I have every confidence in you. I believe you'll catch this guy."

The cat is reminded of Silver. It's surreal.

"And until then, I'm probably not about to retreat from the business I've poured my sweat and tears into just because of some social tension."

"If anyone threatens you, I want to know about it."

"Please, dear!" The bat smiles toothily."This is me you're talking to."

Bright eyes focus for a moment on those teeth. Sharp, curved, white fangs.

"I haven't forgotten my former kickboxing career. I can protect myself. Don't worry about me, m'kay?"

"But what about your business?"

"It's a little quiet, for now. Not about to close, though. I'm doing fine, see?"

"You won't consider at least leaving town for a while?"

"I'm no coward. Stop fussing over me. I'm keeping it together."

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as I can be. I can't see into the future, but I have tried to prepare myself for whatever might happen."

"I don't want this to hurt you."

"You've got enough on your plate. I appreciate your compassion, lovely, but leave me to my plate. Okay? I won't have you taking on my problems in addition to yours."

"But my work is causing you grief."

"No. The reactions of some people are causing me grief. Not you, not what you do."

Blaze sighs, defeated, but impressed. "Just stay safe, okay?"

Rouge's facial features soften. "Chivalry still lives in you." She reaches over to fondly cup a silky jaw. "How are you still single?"

"I've been told I'm married to my work."

"Maybe it's you who should consider a change."

"I don't want to quit."

"Then don't. But consider taking a break."

"Too much to do. Don't want this to defeat me."

"You sound like me, eh?"

"Maybe I'm as stubborn as you."

"Possibly, yes."


	3. Chapter 3

"Can I get you more coffee?"

"No, thank you."

"You don't mind if I…?"

"Go ahead."

"Okie dokie. Thanks!"

"Mm." Pen gripped between her eyeteeth, Blaze shuffles through official documents and unofficial scribbled notes, grimly paying mind to the pile of folders still waiting for her near the edge of her heavy wooden desk.

Silver whistles merrily from the neighbouring kitchenette, but some strange, subdued remnant of sadness radiates off him.

She pauses at a photograph. Then takes in a deep, soothing breath through her nose.

His whistle momentarily loses its key. He's evidently distracted by trying to twist open the jar of coffee.

Spitting out the pen, she thinks deeply about the young man's smile. Gazing distantly into the photograph, she imagines his voice, then shakes her head. Pushes her chair back.

"C'mon," Silver mutters, abandoning his tune. "Open up, you…!"

She stands, the photograph kept close to her chest, and turns away from her desk, from the paperwork, to briskly cross the room in strong, masculine strides. She stops before the board mounted on the wall. Reaches for a pin, tied to the end of a strand of red string.

The hedgehog finally twists the cap off of the jar, feeling satisfied and reasserted within himself. He then sets down the cap and takes up a spoon in its place. "Maybe I've told you this before," he says, speaking loudly over the roar of the boiling kettle, "but you'd think they'd have a bigger office for us, considering the important work we do!"

"Hmm."

"And we're pretty understaffed, too. Meh, money is tight, I guess. But our little team is great!" He chuckles. "And…" He feels his blush creeping upon him, shyly smiling at the kettle. "This way, I get to work more closely with you. We all do, but…"

She doesn't reply, although she hears him, dimly.

He tries to calm his thrumming heart with a gentle pat on the chest.

Her eyes traverse the board, the faces in the photographs, the red strings connecting them to snippets of places, relevant news clippings and scribbled, torn notes. The newest photograph is getting slightly crumpled in the grip of her slender hand, the point of the pin between her fingertips unsteady, gleaming.

"Actually, scratch what I said earlier about us having a bigger office to share. It's great just sharing this space with you." He rubs the back of his head bashfully. "But if anybody deserves to have a bigger office in this place, I think that somebody should be you. You should totally have your own office, Detective. A big office with a nice view."

"And my own pretty masseuse at the ready to rub this tension from my shoulders," she replies under her breath, pressing the photograph flat against an open space. "Wouldn't that be nice?" Finally, she pins the string to the edge of the photograph of the young man's face, then steps back, feeling small and insignificant under the looming mosaic of faces, the growing web of red strings.

Silver returns shortly thereafter with a steamy mug in his hand. About to say something friendly and cheerful, he falters when he sees her standing before the evidence board, her slim, straight back toward him.

"All these people."

He swallows saliva and tentatively approaches her. "Detective?"

"Sometimes, I wonder why I do this job."

"O-oh, that's easy!" He nervously laughs. "So you can stop the bad guys, of course. You're a hero."

"It isn't that simple, at least, I don't think it is." She turns to face him. "Those 'bad guys' are people, too, with complicated motivations." Her expression is stern, but her eyes communicate much more tenderly. "Motives we might never know. It seems convenient to vilify them, to dismiss them, but is it so simple?"

He feels vulnerable under her gaze, insufficient.

"Maybe those 'bad guys' are just people, people who hurt other people. That's what makes this scenario so hard to understand." She realises her voice is rougher than usual. "But I hope those 'bad guys' can change for the better. I cling to this hope."

"It could be good, I mean, to have hope."

"Still, it's so hard, because it seems so senseless."

He sees her move, feels her brush past him, briskly making her way back to her desk.

She sits down, cradling her head in one hand, reaching for another file with the other.

"We will catch this killer, Detective," Silver murmurs to the board, before adding more strongly, "I believe."

"You believe?"

"I believe we will catch this killer. I believe justice, somehow, will prevail. And if we're not the ones to enact just a slice of justice, then somehow, justice will prevail in another way. That's what I believe, too."

* * *

Silver's yawn draws Blaze out of her stupor.

"Go home. Get some rest."

He immediately regrets having shown weakness. "But there's still paperwork…"

"I can manage." She's firm, yet gentle. "It's been a long day. A long number of days."

"You staying here, working on your own… That's hardly fair, though."

"I won't be in the office for much longer. I'll be fine. Don't worry."

"But–"

"Catch a taxi, go home and rest. That's an order."

He doesn't argue further, rising to pack his things away in his neat little satchel. He glances her way, taking a moment to play with his loose, twisted tie.

She is poised over her work, biting that old pen again. Still, she manages to talk through it elegantly, coherently, saying, "I assume you have cab money."

"I do. But…"

"But?"

"Are you sure? I'm happy to stick by you and keep working."

"I told you before that I had given you an order. I'm sure."

He smiles a secret, sad smile at her and, with reluctance, turns to leave. "Goodnight, Detective."

"Goodnight, Silver." She waits to hear the door open and close, then waits some more. When his footsteps have receded downstairs, she deflates, losing much of her posture in the process. She collapses over her desk, a hand slapping down on the remaining paperwork to prevent its escape, and she bows her head into the nest of her folded arm. She closes her eyes and breathes.

The little clock on her desk ticks noisily.

"All those people." The words come out muffled. Try as she might to be blind, she sees their faces projected against her eyelids. She sees the irony, now, in warning Silver.

* * *

"Hi."

Blaze slides onto the barstool, her tail curling about herself. She attempts a quiet, modest smile at the bartender. "Hey."

"The usual?"

"Yes, please. Thank you."

"No problem, hon."

Her eyes trace the motions of a strong, voluptuous body as Rouge reaches for a glass at the back. "Your perfume."

The bat is listening, but gives little indication of paying even the slightest attention.

"It's different tonight."

An amused sound. "You noticed."

"I'm a detective." The cat tilts her head slightly. "And all these years later, you're a friend. Of course I noticed."

"I'm trying something new."

"I like it, but I like your old scent better."

"Only because it's familiar to you and you're evidently a lady who likes routine."

"I can be adventurous."

Rouge laughs quietly, deeply, from the belly outward, whilst filling the tall glass with amber from the tap.

"What's so funny?"

"You are, dear."

Blaze accepts the full glass that's eventually pushed her way.

The bat reaches for her cloth and begins polishing another glass.

"How stereotypical."

"That, and I like it when stuff gleams." Her aquamarine eyes are alert under dark lashes. "How are you?"

"Managing." The cat sighs. "How do I look?"

"Tired. Worn. Still cute."

"And you look indestructible, unfazed, gorgeous."

"I try."

"But how are you?"

Hesitation. "Not at my best. You've probably noticed these last few visits that my bar seems quieter than usual. It keeps getting a little quieter each night."

"Business has been hurt. It's still hurting."

"Yeah."

"The prejudice of some people." Warm eyes are sympathetic. "Has anyone been harassing you?"

"No. I've always been controversial in this city, hon. Mostly, people just avoid me, now. Even more than before."

Blaze lowers her head. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"We've been trying to keep the investigation quiet."

"Amy Rose doesn't really 'do' quiet, though, does she?"

An aggravated sound. A growl, almost.

"Easy, kitten. She's young. Enthusiastic. I doubt she means any harm. She probably thinks she's a hero for keeping the public informed. She could be. To them, at least."

"Maybe. But she's sensational. Absurdly popular."

A womanly shrug, shoulders bare. "Seems she's just giving the people what they want. I can understand that. A story, something juicy and bitter to sink their anxious teeth into. I often sell something juicy and bitter to drown their sorrows in. It's just business."

"I guess so. So it's especially strange that she wasn't at the last crime scene."

"Oh?"

"At least, I didn't see her."

"Do you think she's avoiding you?"

"No. She's rather fearless. I'm no threat to her."

Rouge shrugs again. "Maybe her clairvoyance only works sometimes, then."

The cat groans.

The bat giggles. "What?"

"Do you really believe she's clairvoyant?"

"I dunno. She generally seems to appear at the right places and at the right times for her stories, though. It's uncanny. And she said as much in her article."

"I think she knows someone on the inside. Someone who is feeding her information. Maybe a common uniform. Maybe one of my guys."

"How intriguing."

"I've tried looking into it. Nobody's talking."

"Whoever it is, seems they're more loyal to Amy than they are to you, hon."

"Yes. The thought saddens me, somewhat."

"Then let's change the topic to something happier, hmm?"

"Right." The slightest of grins. "How are things with your platonic housemate?"

The mask momentarily disappears, replaced by a look of profound affection. "Shadow is Shadow. A lot like how you are you. He's been very supportive in his own funny way."

"He does seem to take care of you."

"I'm not sure what I'd do without him. Anyway." Rouge smirks. It used to be unsettling, but now the expression is vaguely comforting. "How's the newest addition to your unit? What's-his-name?"

"Silver." Blaze flexes her jaw. "He's doing fine."

"And?"

"He could be a great detective, given time."

"But right now, he's young. Inexperienced. And that bothers you."

"I hope he doesn't get crushed under the weight of our work."

* * *

"You haven't considered something… more?"

"More?"

"You've been tending this bar since the night I first met you."

"So?"

"Don't you want change? Something else?"

"Not really. Not right now, at least."

Blaze wants to say something, but refrains.

"Listen, darling."

She looks up.

Rouge leans over, resting heavily on her elbows, unmindful of her cleavage. "I'm fine, okay? The people are unhappy, sure, but I have every confidence in you. I believe you'll catch this guy."

The cat is reminded of Silver. It's surreal.

"And until then, I'm probably not about to retreat from the business I've poured my sweat and tears into just because of some social tension."

"If anyone threatens you, I want to know about it."

"Please, dear!" The bat smiles toothily."This is me you're talking to."

Bright eyes focus for a moment on those teeth. Sharp, curved, white fangs.

"I haven't forgotten my former kickboxing career. I can protect myself. Don't worry about me, m'kay?"

"But what about your business?"

"It's a little quiet, for now. Not about to close, though. I'm doing fine, see?"

"You won't consider at least leaving town for a while?"

"I'm no coward. Stop fussing over me. I'm keeping it together."

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as I can be. I can't see into the future, but I have tried to prepare myself for whatever might happen."

"I don't want this to hurt you."

"You've got enough on your plate. I appreciate your compassion, lovely, but leave me to my plate. Okay? I won't have you taking on my problems in addition to yours."

"But my work is causing you grief."

"No. The reactions of some people are causing me grief. Not you, not what you do."

Blaze sighs, defeated, but impressed. "Just stay safe, okay?"

Rouge's facial features soften. "Chivalry still lives in you." She reaches over to fondly cup a silky jaw. "How are you still single?"

"I've been told I'm married to my work."

"Maybe it's you who should consider a change."

"I don't want to quit."

"Then don't. But consider taking a break."

"Too much to do. Don't want this to defeat me."

"You sound like me, eh?"

"Maybe I'm as stubborn as you."

"Possibly, yes."


End file.
